13. Eoghan
Chapter thirteen
Eoghan
T he face of the motherfucker standing across from me in the ring is slack-jawed as I announce that I’m going to be fighting instead of Joey. Roman and his crew are a bunch of assholes, but I didn't take them for stupid. Jokes on me, I guess.
The rules of betting on fights here are once the bets are placed, the fighters can’t back out. No shots at second guesses. If you forfeit a fight for any reason, you lose. I’ve never had to enforce it, but rules are rules. Have I ever inserted myself on the ticket? No, but like hell I’m going to let these guys run away with the money because they decided to try to use my rules against me.
I glance at Gemma standing with the bikers and their women, making sure she’s where I told her to stay. Shit could go down with the other fighter’s crew, and the last thing I want to deal with is having to bury a body if my woman gets hurt. My brother is next to them with his wife, and Enzo stays behind the group, scanning the crowd for any signs of a threat. Then my gaze travels to the security guards who are inconspicuously making their way to the other three guys who came with Roman. I’ve never liked these guys, but I let them fight here. This is the last time any of them will be allowed within a hundred yards of the building.
Roman and I meet in the middle of the ring and bump fists. The smirk on my face tells him I know exactly what’s going on, and the look of fear in his eyes makes me fucking excited to spill his blood. He’s not going to back out, though. He’d lose face in front of a crowd of already irritated people who’ve been drinking. If I don’t tear him apart in the ring, there’s no doubt it would happen if he tried to leave.
When Declan rings the bell for me, I take a step back and Roman and I circle each other. I don’t plan on this taking long, but I’d like to give the crowd somewhat of a show. That’s what they’re here for, after all.
Roman steps toward me and throws a combo, but my quick weave to the right has him punching air when he aims for my face. I return the blows and get in two good jabs on his left flank. He grunts from the impact but doesn’t stop moving; instead, he advances on me again. I let him get a punch in on my left. The goal is to get him feeling a bit cocky—as if he has a shot in hell.
He doesn’t.
I take a step back and look him in the eye. “You fucked up, Roman.”
When I advance, it’s not with any trained moves. I unleash on him like I would some asshole on the street. There are no rules here, and my punches hit precise and with maximum force. I'm not trying to save my energy. I’m going to give him the beatdown he deserves.
My fist flies to his temple, and he stumbles before I land another two blows to the side of his head. He falls to the mat, but he’s still conscious. This is the point where the bell would be ringing and the fighters would separate. But not this time. I continue to rain blow after blow into his face, and when I hear the satisfying crunch of the bone in his nose, I deliver a powerful punch to his jaw and watch with sick satisfaction as it dislocates. That should have him sucking meals through a straw for some time.
Grabbing his sweaty hair, I bring his blood-covered face to mine.
“Let me be very clear. You will never step foot within a hundred yards of my bars again. You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. You’re fucking done fighting in Boston. Now get the hell out of my sight before I decide to snap your fucking neck for trying to steal from me.”
I drop his head, and he lies on the mat instead of moving. I decide to help him along by kicking him in his bruised ribs.
“Go!” I bellow, then nod to my security guards, who have his crew surrounded. Roman tries his best to scurry to the edge of the ring, and when he gets there, he nearly falls onto the cement floor. Eight of my men grab the four assholes who thought they could get away with some bullshit and drag them out the back door. I hop out of the ring and Declan walks over to me, handing me my shirt.
“Think they got the point, or are you going to go out there and make it more clear?” he asks, nodding to the door.
“Nah, go have your fun without me. I’m about to buy the crowd a round, so I need to hop behind the bar to help Bridget.”
Declan shrugs and heads toward the door. My eyes find Gemma, and when our gazes collide, there’s heat in her blue stare as it travels the expanse of my naked torso that’s speckled with that asshole’s blood. So, my girl likes it when I get dirty. Good to know. Not that I thought she would run screaming, but Gemma can be mercurial in the best of times. This is a reassuring development.
“You okay?” I mouth to her from across the basement.
She nods and shoots me a devastating smile, the heat in her eyes making me want to run out of here right now to take her to my office and finish what we started all those weeks ago.
“Round of drinks on the house!” I yell to the crowd, and the cheers nearly deafen me. My gaze returns to the woman who has stolen the heart I didn't think I possessed, and I point to the bar that’s quickly becoming crowded. Gemma nods, catching my intention to help out my poor lone bartender who’s having drink orders hollered at her.
I jump back there, quickly wash my hands and grab a towel to wipe the blood from my chest and arms before putting my black T-shirt back on. “Hold your horses. Everyone will get a drink,” I call to the crowd and quickly start pouring shots and opening beers. A few women cast me sultry glances, wanting more than the alcohol I’m offering—the only thing I’ll ever be offering anyone else again if I have my way.
Once everyone has a drink in hand, they start to make their way upstairs to keep the party going. Fights are done for the night. After checking in with Declan to make sure those four assholes were handled and off the fucking property, I head over to my woman standing in our group of friends and family.
“Everything taken care of?” Finn asks as I loop my arm around Gemma. Most of the sweat has dried from the fight, but Gemma doesn’t skip a beat as she leans into my side, her arm going around my waist.
“Declan and the boys took care of the other three while I was helping Bridget.”
“Damn, Monaghan, I wasn’t expecting to see you in the ring tonight. Can’t say I’m disappointed, though,” Jude says, clinking his beer bottle with the one I’m holding.
“I promised you a good show.” I share a smile with Jude and Linc.
“You promised me something too, if I recall,” Gemma whispers into my ear.
A grin spreads across my face, and I set my bottle down on the tall table pushed against the cement wall.
“I think we’re going to call it a night. I should probably take care of this hand,” I say to the group, holding up my swollen knuckles.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you're leaving to do.” Alessia snorts out a chuckle.
“Shut it, you.” Gemma laughs as she leans in and gives my slightly intoxicated sister-in-law a hug.
“I already let the bartender know to put you on the house’s tab,” I say to Jude and Linc.
Though I was planning on staying for more drinks after the fights, I think Gemma’s offer is much more appealing. I do have promises to keep, after all.
We say our goodbyes and head into the warm evening to the back lot where I parked earlier.
“That was fun,” Gemma says after we’ve settled into the car and pull onto the street. “Lucy and Charlie are a good time. Alessia and I got their numbers so we can get together in a few weeks. Maybe have some drinks and complain about the men in our lives.”
Jesus, those women together spell trouble for the rest of us. Good thing I like Gemma's brand of trouble.
“Too bad you won’t have anything to offer in that particular conversation. I’m practically perfect.”
Gemma lets out a huff of laughter. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“What? I make you coffee every morning, and I’ve even made you breakfast in bed.”
“You must be thinking of someone else. You’ve never made me breakfast in bed.”
I pretend to ponder her statement. “Oh, you’re right. I ate my breakfast in bed this morning.” I will never forget the sight of walking in on her this morning with that toy pressed to her clit or the taste of her orgasm before I sank deep inside of her. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
“You’re ridiculous.”
I grab her hand and kiss the back of it. “And I’m yours.”
Gemma smiles and leans over the center console, kissing me below my ear. “Well, you may want to hurry home. I’m in the mood to return the favor.” She tugs my earlobe with her teeth, and I hit the gas pedal hard on the way back to her apartment. Her tinkling laughter fills the small space as I race home, excited as hell to find out exactly what she has in mind.
The next morning, my ringing phone wakes me from a dream where Gemma and I are lying in bed, naked and wrapped in each other. I open my eyes and look down at my chest to see a head of blonde hair resting on it. Nope, not a dream .
I reach over and grab the offending device from the nightstand.
“Hello,” I answer quietly so as not to wake the gorgeous and very naked creature tucked into my side. She needs more sleep after the night I had with her.
“It’s Nikolai. There’s a shipment coming in tonight from Russia. It’s the perfect opportunity for you and your brother to start helping me sow some seeds of doubt.”
“A little late with the heads-up, Petrov.”
Gemma’s head pops up from my chest and her sleepy eyes find mine.
“This is war, Monaghan. Sometimes, we have to think on our feet. Are you capable of doing that?”
This motherfucker. “Send me the details. We’ll handle it.”
I hang up the phone without saying goodbye because fuck him. What does he think? That we’re over here in Boston with our thumbs up our asses living the good life without ever having to fight to keep our power?
“What’s going on?” Gemma asks.
I lean in for a kiss, debating on what to tell her. Does she want all the details? Would that put her in danger, or should she know so she can make sure to be extra vigilant while Finn and I take care of this shipment? Gemma has been thrust into this side of our life without her consent. She's made it clear she was perfectly happy not knowing details and not being any sort of accomplice.
“How much do you want to know?”
Her eyes narrow as she considers my question. “All of it,” she finally says, her gaze staying locked to mine. “I want to know everything. Trying to stay removed from anything isn’t an option for me anymore.”
My finger swipes away the hair that’s fallen across her forehead. “I’m sorry you're tangled up in this.”
Gemma shrugs. “It was inevitable, no? Alessia knows everything about her husband's business. It’s not crazy to think I wouldn't eventually find out everything about what you guys do.”
“But Alessia grew up in this life. She chose to be a part of this life. You didn’t.”
I ignore the hope that bubbles in my chest when she refers to Alessia knowing everything about her husband’s business, like maybe Gemma is considering our relationship becoming just as permanent eventually.
“Well, turns out Alessia and I have more in common than we thought. Only difference is, I didn’t know about my ties to the criminal underworld.”
I fucking hate that she’s been thrown into this. That I couldn’t protect her. Not that Gemma has ever needed protection, but this was the one thing I could have done for her. My mom has successfully kept herself out of the details of this life. As far as I know, at least. My father could have shared things with her behind closed doors, but she isn’t involved like Alessia or Gemma now. My father has always been able to protect my mother from the dangerous part. Viktor threw Gemma right into the thick of it.
“There’s a shipment coming in tonight. Since part of the plan is to make Viktor look incompetent with the other families, the best way to do that is to steal it. It’ll make them think he can’t protect his product. No one wants to rely on someone who can’t make sure his shit doesn’t get stolen. It will also make them suspect that his crew isn’t as airtight as he leads people to believe.”
“Won’t that make Viktor suspect he has a mole somewhere?”
I nod. She’s too damn smart sometimes. “It will, which is why it’s important to make sure it looks like business as usual around here. Viktor said Nikolai is in charge of dealing with you, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have other people coming through Boston to check on things.” Which is one of the reasons I took Gemma to the fights last night. We need it to look like no one is worried about the Russian threat because, as far as Viktor is concerned, Gemma is the only one who knows anything.
Gemma sits up and scrubs her hands over her face. “I hate this. I hate putting you in danger.”
“Whoa,” I say, sitting up myself and leaning against the white leather headboard next to her. “You’re not doing this. Viktor is. We had a feeling the Russians wanted to find a way into Boston when we found out who was helping Carlo. Then, when we found out that Giada was promised to marry Nikolai, we knew a war with them was inevitable. This was going to happen one way or the other. Finn didn’t want to take it to their doorstep, but Viktor practically broke yours down, and now we’re handling it. That’s not on you.”
She turns to me with a sad smile on her face. “It figures my father would be as big of an asshole as my mother. The two people who brought me into this world just want to take everything they can from me.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her into me. I can’t relate to what she’s going through or what she went through with her mom. My family is as close to perfect as one can get, considering we’re leaders of a criminal empire, but there’s always been more than enough love to go around. Family is the most important thing in our world. Gemma never knew that kind of love from her parents or family, and nothing I say or do can erase the hurt she dealt with growing up and is still dealing with to this day.
But the one thing I can do for her is hold her close and do my damndest to make her feel like she has people in her life who would move heaven and hell to make sure she’s safe.
After a lazy hour of coffee and breakfast, I have to leave Gemma’s warm bed to meet with my brother and Cillian to go over the plans for tonight. I call Declan and Tommy to meet us at my brother’s penthouse, too. I also instruct them to pick up a few things before they meet us.
The goodbye kiss I leave Gemma with is lingering with promises of more when I come home. And I will be coming home. This is going to be a quick in and out. When Nikolai sent me the text with the information about the shipment coming into the New York harbor tonight, it included the shift-change information for the security at the docks. And low and behold, his father’s crew was given the wrong information about where to be tonight. While they’re twiddling their thumbs on the wrong side of the harbor two hours later than when the shipment actually gets there, we’ll be long gone.
“So, we’re set,” Finn says as Cillian rolls up a map for the harbor. It’s not a port we’ve used in the past since the Italians and Russians in New York have kept a tight grip on it. But leave it to Cillian to have all of the schematics, including aerial photos, so we aren’t going in blind. I swear the man has never met a t he didn’t cross or an i he didn’t dot.
“Let’s load up then. We have a long drive ahead of us,” I say before turning to Tommy. “We’ll put the presents in the crates, then you and Declan can take the van. Cillian, Finn and I will be in my car.”
Declan and Tommy nod, heading to the garage.
Finn’s brows draw down. “Presents?”
A smile stretches across my face. “It’ll be great.”
The ride to the harbor is long and fucking boring. I tried to play “I Spy” with Cillian, but he didn’t find it amusing. Then I thought he was going to make Finn pull over so he could grab his gun and shoot me between the eyes when I played the “Slug Bug” game with him.
“You need to loosen up, man,” I tell him when we’re about an hour out.
“Leave Cillian alone,” Finn says from the driver’s seat. “And fuck you for making me sound like Dad on a road trip.”
That gets a smile from Cillian.
“How are things with Gemma?” Finn asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
“Is that you asking, or your wife?” I reply.
Finn lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Listen, Alessia is concerned for her best friend. Considering I told you to stay away from her and you didn’t listen, Alessia just wants to make sure you’re not dicking her around.”
“If anyone is in danger of being dicked around, it’s me.”
I see Finn arch a brow in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
And that’s where the discussion ends. My brother and I aren’t ones to wax poetic about the women in our lives to each other—or anyone else, for that matter. It doesn't take a genius to see he’s wholly and happily obsessed with his wife, just like he doesn’t need me to elaborate on my feelings for Gemma. I never expected lightning to strike with the blue-eyed, blonde she-devil I met at a wedding, but here we are. I was perfectly happy screwing my way through Boston, not giving anything beyond one night and a good time more than a passing thought. Hell, probably not even that much of a thought. But Gemma Dalton changed all of that for me. Sure, it was lust at first sight. You’d have to be blind not to see what a stunning knockout my woman is. But the obsession I chased her over has become an all-consuming need to keep her by my side, and that sure as shit has never been something I thought I’d say.
Cillian, Finn, and I hop into the white delivery van driven by Tommy before going through the gates at the harbor. Cillian printed off some bogus paperwork about picking up a shipment before we left, and that’s all that was needed to get through the gate.
We find the freight easy enough because of Cillian’s thorough plans. I have the lock picked and the door open less than a minute later. Finn and I never partook in stealing shipments from rival families. By the time he came into power, that part of our operation had long since been discarded. But our grandfather used to tell us stories of his father coming to the States and stealing shipments of liquor and various other things from rival families. Thieves and bootleggers, that’s how the Monaghans made their fortune back in that time. It sort of feels like we’re visiting our roots as we load the crates of guns into the van.
“Fuck, it’s going to be a tight fit,” I comment as we get the last crate inside.
“Just for a minute til we get back to the car, princess,” Cillian says.
“Are you…making a joke?” I ask, fake shock on my face.
“Hey, let me see your paperwork.” The five of us turn and see three security guards making their way toward us.
Fuck.
“Sure thing,” Cillian says, pulling the fake papers from his jacket.
The one in front takes them as the other two eye us.
The guard looks at the paper and I see the second he realizes they’re fakes. “This isn’t—”
Before he finishes his sentence, Cillian throws a punch to the guy’s jaw, and he immediately falls to the ground. The other two rush to Cillian but don’t make it there before Finn and I are on top of them. I take a quick swing, but the guy ducks and strikes me in the side of the ribs. Damn, I wonder if he’s had training . I send a fist to his face, but he doesn’t go down easily. I almost feel bad for it, these guys are just doing their jobs, but like hell I’m going to be busted by port security.
He comes at me again, but his punch goes wide. I hit him in the jaw, and he falls to the ground, knocked out cold. I look over and the other two guards are lying unconscious on the pavement in front of the carrier. Tommy grabs their walkie-talkies, and Declan has the van running as the three of us jump in the back with Tommy in the front.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before they wake up,” Finn says, slamming the back door behind us.
We make it out of the gate with a nod to the security at the front, then drive two blocks to where our car is parked. We hop out of the back and Tommy dumps the walkie-talkies on the side of the road before heading back to the highway to get the hell back to Boston.
Easy fucking peasy.